Doppelgänger

It's already been a couple weeks, but I'm still a wee unsettled. 9:30am Saturday morning I receive a call. "Zach?" says the voice on the other end. "It's Caroline!" she responds to my "Yes?" Ok, one of my best friends is Caroline, but something is amiss which prevents either of us from diving headlong into full conversation. We feel it out, and come to the conclusion neither of us is who we think the other is. Turns out she's searching for a different Zach Bruns in San Francisco, her best friend from high school. She implores me not to hang up, however, and so, thoroughly discombobulated by now I go on to hear about her beloved Zach (whose description has marked similarities to mine). But it's clear she is in need of someone - anyone - to talk to, and I can't decide if she's seriously depressed or slightly drunk, or both.

A few days later I actually hear from my Caroline, now in Boston. She's been thrown for a loop because she just saw me while waiting for the T. And by me, she explains, there was no doubt in her mind that it was me however unlikely that I'd be in Boston: same clothes, same face, same eyes and glasses, same body, same backpack, same expression of alarm as she leapt up in surprise and joy. Not just a good look-alike, but my best friend was so convinced that it took a few moments to get past the hurt when he walked on without further acknowledgement.

All creepy coincidence aside, there's someone like me with my name, and someone else with my body - both walking around out there somewhere. I feel like I need to ascribe some sort of great significance to these events. Like someone or something is trying to tell me something important. I just haven't figured out what it is yet.